


patron saint of sucking cock

by HeHasChosenTheBees



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Collars, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Embarrassment, I basically took the canon out back and pulled an old yeller, Idiots in Love, Kink admittion, Leashes, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Name Calling, Possessive Behavior, Punishment, Shame, Showers, Slapping, Spanking, Submission, Throat Fucking, exhibition, petnames, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeHasChosenTheBees/pseuds/HeHasChosenTheBees
Summary: Steve shivers out a tiny sound, something close to the word "Daddy.""Yeah, my sweet baby. Daddy's favorite pet. I could do whatever I wanted to you, couldn't I?"  Steve whimpers again, and though this is supposed to be a punishment, Bucky's heart throbs.  Jesus, this tender and sweet sub, tanged in damp sheets and his own mind will be the death of Bucky. More beautiful then God with a heart made of gold, and a sinner like Bucky gets him all to himself. That's the way they've always been. Steve is the light, the good, the glimmer in the stars dotted in Bucky's darkness. He's always been the corrupting one, even before HYDRA fried his lizard brain or took his arm and his freedom. Steve is the worthiness in him, the very thing that keeps his mind from shaking apart. Like gravity, they pull together and collide like planets, scattering thousands of pieces of themselves, hurling their celestial bodies at one another with such force they cease to be two, become rubble and disaster and dust, but rubble and disaster and dust together as one.Title is from the song "Young and Dumb" by Cigarettes after Sex.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes / Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 78





	patron saint of sucking cock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ella/gifts).



When Bucky comes stamping into the house, Steve knows somehing is wrong. Before he even can open his mouth, the taller man holds up a hand. "Keep your trap shut," he snarls, heading for the bedroom, and Steve jumps up to follow. "Buck, what the hell is wrong with you?" Bucky slams the door to their bedroom, shutting Steve out. The blonde rips it open, following the slope of his lover's shoulders to the closet. "What are you doing? Are you gonna fuckin' explain why you're stomping around the house like someone pissed in your Cheerios?" Bucky snarls, wheeling, a belt in hand. His eyes glimmer with something ferocious; dangerous, cool and caculating. 

Winter's eyes, Steve knows. 

"Shut your mouth, Steve. Either we do this my way, or it gets rougher then it has to." His voice is gravel-low and dark as pitch. It stirrs in Steve's stomach. "Bucky, come on. What is this-" A cold hand, unmistakeable metal and plating grips his wrist and suddenly Bucky's everywhere, heavy over Steve and it's too much. He's forced to back out of their room. Bucky's eyes reflect what should put pure fear in a normal man, but it makes sickening arousal curl in the blonde. "I told you to shut your mouth, Steve." His back is against the window in the living room, cold glass on a thin shirt and the thrill of Bucky domaneering over him. There's no danger here, he knows, and it's always been Bucky's job to put him in his place, but there's an edge to reality in the pieces of the scene they're starting. "You better be fuckin' thankful I heard it from Sam's mouth rather then seeing it with my own eyes." He's still clutching the belt, smoothing the leather over the pressure sensers in his metal hand. "You wanna tell me why you were makin' a fool of me in the gym this morning?" Steve's bewildered. What did he do? Bucky's eyebrows raise to his apparent confusion.

"Boy, you must be askin' for it. You really don't listen to me when I speak, do you? I'm gonna have to fix that." Steve shivers, sweat running down his neck. The brunette circles, a predator, lips curled in disaprooval, near disgust. The taller man's anger pulls the deeper drawl of his brooklyn accent out, and just the hint of it's sound ringing in Steve's ears is enough to make his knees weak. "I've told you how I feel about you taking off your clothes in front of other people, especially Stark. He stares at you more then I'd like as is, but you have the gall to take off your shirt in front of that prick? Then work out, heft some weights and hit a bag just to put on a show. You makin' it a habit to put on a show for anyone other then me? " Pieces slide and lock into place, and Steve has to remind himself to send Sam, who he has no doubt told Bucky what he had done, flowers or something. "Wasn't tryin' t-" Bucky raises a hand, silencing Steve. "You disobeyed me. You went and flaunted what was mine, Stevie. Mine, you hear? Makin' me look like I don't take care of you the way I should. Like you're just something they can gander at, somethin' they can touch. You thinking of walkin' out on me? You think I don't take care of you?" Steve shakes his head desperatly, mouth dry. He knows who he belongs to, he knows. There's heat gathering between his legs, even without Bucky's hand on his skin.

"You sure like to act out. Just like a kid, getting your ass kicked in an alley becuase you liked it when they roughed you up and then I got mad at you for it. Is that what this is? Are you tryin' to get my attention, Stevie baby?" His voice is honey-sweet, but Steve would't dream of answering his question. It's the cat and mouse game they love to play. Steve swallows, tries not to cant his hips forward. Bucky lets the metal buckle tinkle against his artifical hand, a warning. He notions loosely at the tent in the blonde's sweatpants, now obvious. "Look at that. This is what gets you off. You go and do somethin' dull just so you can crawl back to me and get the stiff end of the rod for it. That's what you want? We can fuckin' arrange that." He wedges a foot under the ottoman and shoves it to the floor-to-ceiling window panel, skyline streaked with the purples and blues of evening. Far below them, the city is alive and thrumming. "Pants down, over this. No underwear. You won't learn your lesson unless you're bare." Steve's mind is hazy and he shakes when he moves, but he manages to wriggle out of his pants and peel his breifs down, sticky in the front. Bucky dissapears into their room for a moment before emerging with his hairbrusth, smooth and flat made with soft bristles and a hard, plolished wooden base. It sends clamors of shame from the base of his neck to the cradle of his hips. Bent over, bare as the day he was born, about to be spanked with a hairbrush like a child. 

"Look at me." He snaps, belt layed over the couch. He notions to the floor, where Steve's clothes are in a rumpled mess. "What the fuck is this? Clean this up." Steve flutters his eyes shut and reaches for the pile, folding shakily in the best fashion he can, blush swelling across his face when he sees the wet spot on the front of his underwear. He goes to add them to the pile, but Bucky halts him. "Haven't even put a finger on you and you're soaked. Wet like a goddamn girl, you know that? What, Stevie, you got a sweet little cunt between those legs, hmm? You're drawn up so tight, looks like a fuckin' girl. My sweet slut." Steve's knees go finally and he groans, setting the pile of his clothes on the opposing edge of the ottoman and bending over the upholstry until he's laid out as best he can be for his lover. "How long were you at the gym?" Bucky spits, reaching for the belt. "A-About two hours." Steve says, voice trembling at the threat in Bucky's posture. "How long without a shirt?" He blinks, tries to think, but it's not fast enough becuase Bucky's metal hand fists in his hair and yanks back hard enough to throw his body back. "Half an hour!" he yelps. Bucky smirks and shoves him forward, not giving Steve's arms time to catch himself. He lands bodily, face first into the ottoman, and the moan that's been caught in his throat finally tears free. The brunette grabs the belt and wrangles Steve's arms behind him, tightening them barred against his back. The leather is just a tad too tight, alighting Steve's skin in a pleasent buzz, and drowsily, he looks to Bucky's face as his words come back into focus.

"Thirty is a nice, round number. Each minute you disobeyed me. Thirty swats, and you'll count out loud. If I don't hear a number, you get it again until I hear it. Understand?" Steve nods feverantly and that's all his boyfriend needs before the harsh, spiking thwack of the brush on his bare skin hones his attention. He stutters out a number, each sharp impact backed with enough force that he pitches forward and his voice goes hoarse from the crying. The pain sears his skin, burns his sins free and makes liquid fire build behind each strike. His head swims and he loses track of time, gasping out numbers as best he can. Bucky showes him no mercy, waiting just long enough to let the pain crest in his body without letting him go numb, never letting Steve rest, keeping him atop each wave. He's fairly certian he's shuddering, sobbing out broken sounds, but Bucky never halts and it's the most glorious thing Steve can ever feel. He's slipping, losing himself to sensation and agony, unable to squirm away from the pain and it's edging on unbearable when the torrential flood suddenly stops and Steve realizes that Bucky's talking. It's over. He's been good; he took all thirty.

"...wish you could see yourself, Stevie. We're not done yet. Get up." It's cruel and Steve loves it, made to stand when he's such a mess and crawl over to Bucky like it means nothing. His face is a mess of tears, and Bucky's pupils blow wide when he sees them. He follows their tracks with his tounge across his neck. He's turned on by it, watching him sob. It got him off. Steve shivers and gasps, still off balance and unable to move his arms. Bucky roughly kicks the ottoman away from the window and mashes Steve against the shining barrier between them and the world. His ample cleaveage is tight against the glass, nipples contracted to points on the icy smooth panes. He's naked, bruised and crying, forced against the window on display. His cockhead smears the spotless glass, sticky and wet and the cold makes him cry out. Bucky leans in, pressing the full weight of his body to the blonde's. "You wanna put on a show? Let's put on a fuckin' show. Let everyone in New York know how Captian America likes taking dick. Do they know how easy you are? God, you really are a whore." Steve sucks in a breath and Bucky kisses behind his ear, letting out a hot breath against him. The brunette kicks Steve's legs apart and spits on his fingers, and the sudden and rough feeling of Bucky's fingers prodding Steve's most tender parts makes him let out a helpless sound. He'd been pounded supid earlier that morning, but remains virgin tight and Bucky makes a pleased sound when his fingers sink into the vice of the blonde's body. "Always eager for something to play around here. You like it better then there's something bigger though, don't you?" Bucky takes the oppurtunity to force in another finger, and Steve is suddenly glad that there's glass to keep him upright. He wonders if people below them can see, if they are watching, seeing him getting violated like a slut and beaten like a petulant child. Shame and embarrasment encase his spine, molten and vicious as it spreads to the tip of his toes to the last hair on his head. He registers the tearing of a packet of lube produced from Bucky's jeans, feeling the cold edging around his hole. It barley clicks to him that the taller man planned this, knew exactly what he was going to do, and it sends him reeling as a blunt heat pushes at him and oh,

Bucky rams into him with no mercy, never giving him a moment to adjust to his length before snapping his hips hard enough to slam his hipbones into the glass. His bruised ass takes the impact and he sobs, fingers curling into fists as each swell of pain sharpens the pleasure of being used. He drops his head and moans lowly, spreading his legs farther apart to accomodate Bucky's harsh pace. The brunette growls, captures his hips and forces him forward even further, ass jutted out and face still against the panes. "Fuck, look at that. Presenting and pretty, just for me. You do this for everyone? You do this for that trigger-hapy rich asshole?" Steve chokes, moaning gutturally. "N-No, god, no one but you. Please, 'm sorry, didn't wanna d-disobey, please," his pleas fall on deaf ears. Bucky downright disregaurds Steve's senastaion and focuses on his own, grunting sharply when his occasional comment makes Steve tighten up where it counts. He never slows, skin slapping skin, pleasure making Steve's toes curl. "Easier to fuck then a ten-cent whore," Bucky snaps, growling when Steve cants back so hard that the resounding clap of their skin is deafening. He howls at the pain, but never stops throwing himself back, trying his best to take what he wants from Bucky, earn back his loyalty, like a dog that bit his master. "Bucky!" he gasps, arms tugging at the belt entrapping him. "Bucky, 'm gonna, please, I-" The older man silences him with a particullarly mean thrust. "You go ahead, but i'm not stopping-" He throws himself forward as hard as he can, reveling in the scream that rips from Steve. "-until I'm done with you." 

The permission, the thought of being used like an object, the searing pain and swimming pleasure all wrapped up into one is enough to make Steve's patience snap. "Want it, please, please, I'll be good, w-won't disobey. Shit, god, I want it~" Bucky ensares his throat with a free hand, metal and cold. He squeezes down firmly, that sound begins to blurr and Steve's head turns to radio static. "Watch you're fuckin' mouth." He snarls, fingers tight. The metal arm whirrs and clicks with Bucky's growing arousal; He groans when Steve starts panting, twitching, gasping like he's close, dropping his hand down. Steve immediatly misses it and opens his mouth to beg yet again, but the words feel wrong and strange becuase he can't speak. He intends to plead, but all that comes out are broken and fretful noises. Mewls and shameless moans, the sounds of Bucky biting out curses in Russian. It sends a full body shiver through Steve, and suddenly the edge of his orgasam is approaching him so fast that he can't open his mouth to warn his lover before it's smeared across the window and his stomach. The pressure makes Steve see stars and it feels for a moment like people below them, capturing pictures, saving images into their phones, so the whole world will know just what a slut he is, and he shreiks. "Bucky! Please!" he chokes, spilling himself over and over again, Bucky hitting his sweet spot so hard that he can't breathe. It's too much, and his knees buckle. He begins to slide down, unable to hold himself, but Bucky's iron grip on him never wavers. Wounded sounds slips from his lips, lost in the clamour of his orgasam. His legs tremble and his sinfully swollen and red lips drop open, torn between pusing torward the feeling or away from it. The oversensitivity wins, though, and is enough to make his legs shake so bad that even Bucky can't hold him up and thrust at the same time without serious discomfort for Steve. "God, you're a mess." He wordlessly helps Steve to the floor and rubs a cool metal hand across his sweating temple, the smallest act of mercy as the scene begins to shift and change. For the first time since he bent over the ottoman, Steve is allowed to breathe. Not for long, though. His bones ache and the burn that's splayed across his backside is so insense that tears just keep pressing from his eyes. Bucky simply grabs his hair and tugs him forward, tutting. "Look at this mess." He notions to Steve's cum streaked across the window. Steve's on his knees, eye level and Bucky simply has to raise an eyebrow before Steve knows exactly what the expectation is.

He leans forward and swipes his tounge through the mess, bitter and salty. He closes his eyes and laps up anything he can reach, ever obident. Bucky mutters a curse under his breath as he watches, lazily tugging on his cock, still glistening with saliva and lubricant. "C'mere," he chides, watching Steve shuffle on his knees forward. "Flat on the ottoman. On your back." Steve wordlessly obeys, laying himself out as best he can without his arms. Bucky digs in his pockets again as Steve settles on the upholstry, squirming. The taller man finds another lube packet and walks the length of Steve's body with his knees, settling on top of him. He drizzles it across Steve's chest, watching the flower of a blush bloom on Steve's face. "Told you, Stevie. Just like a fuckin' girl. Never seen tits like that." He hisses when he drags his cock against the stiff bud of Steve's nipple, catching on his slit. Steve wails and spasams, slurring druken and wanting words. Bucky cups both of Steve's pecs and pushes them together, groaning as he slips his aching cock between them. The rough denim of Bucky's tac jeans burns as it drags on the blonde's skin, pinches the sensitve flesh where the zipper chafes. His ample cleavage is slick and burning hot as Bucky fucks his chest with abandon, tugging on Steve's nipples until they're puffy, blood-hot and aching. Steve always makes beautiful sounds when the brunette plays with his chest, wanting moans and high cries, sweet as any dame. "B-Buck, oh god, fuckin'-" Bucky gives him a swift slap to the cheek, cracking his flesh hand across Steve's face. The blonde makes a sound that Bucky savors. It's one he only makes when hit, when degraded that low, something between a gasp and a sob that makes Bucky's cock throb all the more. "I said watch your mouth," he pants, hips working quickly enough that Steve's chest begins to rock and his tits begin to bounce softly. Bucky hisses at the sight and lets out a choked noise when Steve moans, ever receptive. He enjoys getting his chest desecrated like this, being a plaything for Bucky to ruin just as much as Bucky enjoys doing the playing. His eyes are glassy as marbles and his words are slurred, and it's the tiny, blissed out sound of Bucky running a hand though the blonde's sweat-caked hair that throws him over the edge.

"F-Fuck, Stevie, baby," He groans, back arching. He empties himself completly across Steve's chest, exhaling heavily. Steve's shivering too, mouth sinful and wide open, eyes half lidded at the sensation of Bucky spilling across his chest. "That's my good boy," Bucky whispers, heaving Steve upright. He stumbles to slip behind him, releasing Steve's arms as the tremors of the aftershock begin to fade. Steve's blinking slowly, still trying to comprehend what he's feeling. Bucky snatches Steve's shirt off the floor, still military grade folded, wiping his seed from Steve's chest. Steve makes a mournful sound, but lets Bucky drop the shirt and gently rub circulation into his arms. His head drops forward, heavy as lead on the taller man's shoulder, and he smiles. "You were so good for me," he says, kissing the top of Steve's head, blonde hair mussed and dark at the lines of his temples where sweat trickled downward. Steve murmurs something, still too exuasted and punch-drunk to answer. His cock has gone back to full hardness between his bruising thighs, red and wet and aching. It's so sexy, that Bucky shamelessly uses him and without a touch, he's hard enough to drive nails. Steve looks to Bucky with wide, pleading eyes, suddenly aware that he's hard again now that Bucky's letting him free of his bonds. Bucky nods and Steve reaches between his legs to take care of it himself, but the taller man stops him. "What're you doin', baby?" Steve blinks slowly, drunk. "Need to..." he trails off, hand hovering, fingers shaking. "Sweetheart," Bucky purrs, manuvering closer to his lover. "You did so good for me, took what I gave you so nice. You want me to take care of that for you?" Steve blinks, seemingly suprised that Bucky is being so kind. Slowly, he nods, turning to the side when a blush dusts his cheeks. "That's my pretty Stevie. Lay on your side for me?" Steve flutters his lashes, but doesn't move. "I wanna, uhm..." He looks to his lap, swallowing thickly. His long, thin artist fingers skirt the bruises that are fleshing out with color, and suddenly, he digs into them. Bucky watches in awe as his lover's cock twitches at the sensation. Without words, Bucky understands. He wants it rough.

"God, you fucking whore," he purrs, and Steve immediatly goes pliant. "I beat your ass and fuck you stupid, then play with your tits and you still want it?" Steve shivers, hands pulled behind his back, spine straighening. This is what makes him feel beautiful. Sure, they have those days when all he can handle without crying is Bucky lavishing kisses across him and fucking him slow and sweet while whispering soft praises; but there's times when he falls from grace and needs more then he can provide himself. "Get up. Now. Take your clothes and put them where they belong and wait for me on the bed." Bucky heads for their bedroom with Steve stumbling after him, clutching his clothes to his body. Under Bucky's watchful eye, he throws his shirt and breifs into the laundry basket, then tucks his sweatpants into the drawer where he keeps his gym clothes. Bucky nods and notions for the bed and dissapears into the closet, re-emrging with a shiny pair of handcuffs in his fist, glimmering in the low light of their room. The metal looks dull next to Bucky's artifical arm, and he leans in the doorframe with the cuffs in Steve's full view, an open threat. "Did Stark say anything to you today? While you were running around breakin' my rules?" Steve looks like a deer caught in the headlights. "Don't bother lying to me, Steve. Sam already told me, I just wanna hear it from your mouth." The blonde opens his mouth, but no sounds come out. Bucky raises both brows and lifts the fingers holding the restraints, lips brought togther, taunting. He shakes them, and they clatter noisily in his metal hand. "Answer me, Steve, or these ends up wherever I want them." 

The shorter man makes a soft noise in his throat and squirms. "He said 'Barnes better come down here and leash a dog like you.' He was talking a-about me showing off." Bucky nods and tosses the handcuffs to the end of the bed. He turns and slides something off the shelf, coming out with what makes Steve's breath catch. "Sam called me and told me while I was out, so I figured I'd pick something up for the little bitch in heat I had waiting for me at home." A leash made of ornate chain with a leather loop for a handle comes clinking as Bucky throws it up on the bed. Steve looks like someone pulled the fire alarm in his head, fingers shaking. He'd bought himself a collar before the events of D.C., before he had Bucky to make him feel safe, and he only brought it out in the desperate moments when he couldn't handle the weight on his shoulders, when he had no one to protect him and he had to find a way to fill the void in his heart. When they found eachother, when their bodies colided again for the first time since the night before the horrors of Zola's train, Steve buried it in his things. Even after their more depraved desires trickled into the relatonship, Steve always feared scaring Bucky away with the things he's wanted since he was a skinny kid. He remembers burying his face into his thin pillow, thighs trembling as he worked between them, keening Bucky and Daddy interchangibly. Now, it makes shame throttle him. "H-How did you..." He says slowly, eyes settled on the floor. "I saw it with your things, Steve. You think I can't hear you when you touch yourself? Think you don't whimper some filthy things in your sleep?" The thought of Bucky listening to him touch himself, hearing him helpless in sleep, not bothering to help, just easedropping, makes Steve's stomach clench and his cock bob against his abdomen. "I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready, but I just don't think you know to say it. You wanna get it out?" The smaller man chokes, a high noise slipping from his mouth. He never thought this would happen, that Bucky would want this, and he nearly falls out of bed to raid his chest of drawers. He knows exactly where his collar is.

He hands the thick, dark brown band of leather to Bucky and settles back on the bed. Bucky inspects it and tuts, shaking his head. The D-ring has begun to slide from it's casing and the foux leather has begun to peel and crack; the latch has been broken from Steve's tugging and been hastily repaired several times. "Steve, I expected you to take much better care of your things." Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, trying to explain it's been a long while out from the package, but Bucky's turned on his heel and dissapeared into the closet again, returning with a jewlery box. He pulls a sheet over Steve's naked lap and places the box atop it, demeanor changing. He speaks softly as though not to spook a wild animal. "You redeemed yourself tonight. I'm not angry about what happened this morning, but I am upset with you. You didn't come and talk to me. I've told you so many times that I'm here, that we can discuss things, and you just kept these things a secret. You know I wanna make you feel good, Stevie. I can't do that if you don't tell me what you need." The mood has changed completley. Steve's gone from reveling in being degraded to suddenly timid, needing Bucky's guidance. His sins have been washed clean, and now he feels lost. "Is there anything else you wanna tell me?" The shorter man swallows and looks to his lap, cheeks hot. The box is sleek and shiny, like the patent leather shoes his Ma used to wear to church, and he brushes his fingers across the top. Bucky notices his idility and smiles, runs a metal palm across his throbbing scalp. The blonde moans lowly, the attention infectious. "You can open your present first, doll. Go on." Steve lifts the lid gently, and his baby blues settle on a band of black, sturdy leather lined with crushed velvet. The clasp is thick and heavy and perfectly balanced with the shining O-ring adorning the front. It's the prettiest thing Steve's ever seen. He makes a sound akin to a gasp, and Bucky pulls it from the crepe paper in the box. "You want it on?" He can't answer, can't move, can't think, but the brunette sees the answer in his eyes. 

When the clasp clicks into place and the weight settles thickly on his throat, Steve blinks into the lights that suddenly seem too bright. "Steve? Baby, is it too much?" The taller man reaches to take it off his lover, but the blonde squalls and clutches the clasp. "No!" he startles both of them with the vhelmence. "Shh, Steve, it's okay. I won't take it off. Just need you to talk to me, tell me what's goin' though your head, answer my question." Steve nods, hand slowly slinking away from the back of his neck. "Feels good. I'm okay, 's just alot." Bucky holds up the leash in a quetioning manor and Steve bares his throat, ever eager. The pieces click togther easily the air is sucked from Steve's lungs when Bucky gives a little tug and he has to crawl forward to keep from falling face-first on the bed. He mewls, eyeing the slack of the chain. Bucky tightens it and makes Steve crawl even closer, panted breaths on the taller man's neck. "You didn't answer my question, Stevie, and we can't have that. I don't enjoy being ignored. Is there anything else you need to tell me?" The shorter man draws in a gasp. "Wanna," he says breathlessly, stopping to let out an embarrased sound. "Wanna call you D-Daddy." Bucky rips down on the leash, sending his lover reeling forward, straight into his lap. Steve's baby blues have gone glassy and glazed, adoring. "Yeah, my sweet baby. Daddy's favorite pet. I could do whatever I wanted to you, couldn't I?" He whispers in depraved awe. Steve looks like an angel, hair as golden as a sunrise and skin as smooth and pale as a white rose, curled and wanting in Bucky's lap when he nods, beautiful. 

"C'mon, let Daddy take care of you." He tries to pull Steve up, but the blonde refuses to move. He mouths along Bucky's clothed cock, licking shamelessly until the denim is damp. "Stevie, sweetheart, don't you want me to?" He says gently, like talking to a confused child. The smaller man shakes his head, insistant. "Can I? Please...Daddy?" The words knock the air from Bucky, and this time, he's the helpless one. "Okay, but we're gonna do it my way. You 'member what we agreed on for when you can't speak?" Steve holds out a european three, thumb, index and middle finger raised. "That's good, sweet boy. Arms up near the headboard." Bucky grabs the cuffs where they've been sitting on the duvet and snaps one around Steve's wrist, tugging them through the holes of the board and clicking them in place over his other one. Steve tugs at them, and looks expectantly at Bucky. The taller man runs his thumb across Steve's plush lips, red and curved beautifully, and pulls himself from his pants. Steve immediatly tries to lick at him, and Bucky's stomach swoons at his eagerness. Slowly, he feeds his cock into Steve's mouth, hissing at the contat of hot, wet velvet around his dick. "That's it," he bites, rocking his hips into Steve's mouth softly. They've never done this, with Bucky completley in control, and it's intoxicating to watch Steve helpess and keening into every touch. "That's it. God, look at you, fuck." It takes no time at all until he's moving faster, shallow thrusts becoming deeper ones, and Steve's fucking taking it. With every snap of Bucky's hips, Steve hollows his cheeks and sucks in, pushing forward to take all of his lover that he can, choking when Bucky rams his throat. The brunette goes to pull away but the blonde tilts up, chasing Bucky back into his mouth. It's the hottest thing Bucky's ever seen. "You like that, don't you? Makin' up for all the time I wouln't let you swallow me down as a punk kid." Steve's hips buck forward at the mention, seemingly remebering the hazy memories of their lives, how they touched, just as well as Bucky does. Before war soured their lives, when Bucky wouldn't let Steve do anything but suckle on him in fear that Steve'd choke and have an attack. 

Bucky tugs on the leash, reaching behind himself to tug on Steve's cock. The blonde moans around Bucky, working even harder to please when Bucky squeezes. "Shit, that feels fuckin' good." Steve works his tounge under Bucky the best he can, groaning when he feels a metal hand rub along his slit. It's too much, something with the potential to be so dangerous wrapped around his cock, and he can't help but whimper. A pulled apart moan trembles from Bucky's throat at the way the sound reverberates in his cock, and with a sudden snap, Steve's taking Bucky twice as fast. "God!" The taller man bites out. "What would they all say, hmm? Good little catholic school boy taking cock like he was born to do it. Were you born for it, baby? Do you pray to the angel of whores at night?" Steve wails and swallows deeper. They've both been on the edge since Bucky pulled the leash out, and both know niether will last long with how hot and heavy they're running. Bucky begins to angle down, growling at the tighness he finds. "Yeah, fuck, that's Daddy's good boy." The smaller man's heart stops in his chest at those words. It must show in his eyes when Bucky looks down on him, becuase he opens his mouth. "Oh angel, you've always been Daddy's good little boy. Always been sweet for me." Steve's eyes roll back in his skull. Bucky's always been a talker in bed, but this is making him come closer and closer to the bliss that he craves. He sags forward bonelessly, half lidded and heavy while Bucky speaks. "God, I remember when you were a fuckin' showgirl, Stevie. Hogan d-dared you to steal those pantyhose from the girls and you did, put 'em on when you were alone, looked fucking good in 'em too. Know you put 'em on under your u-uniform, Stevie. Kept them on all day, then waited for me to fall asleep so you could fist your cock and beg for your daddy in them, lookin' so pretty." Steve trembles, shame rioting his body. How had he gotten caught? How had Bucky known? He had stayed awake and just listened, knew he was wearing girl's stockings all day and didn't say a word- 

His orgasam takes him buy suprise and suddenly, Steve is crying out, choking as Bucky sinks home and the rapid tightening of his throat makes the brunette groan and spill hot into Steve's mouth. He swallows as best he can, but some tribbles down his chin as his body is enevloped in pleasure, head swimming and hips convulsing upward into Bucky's metal palm. Sparks burn in his stomach, bright and sweet and shivering as his high fades to trembling aftershocks, crashing like waves against his body. "There you go baby. Daddy's got'cha." Bucky has withdrawn, ignorant of occasional twitch of his own thighs to grab tissues and blot up the mess in his hands and on Steve's stomach. He unlocks Steve's wrists, but the blonde keeps them where they've been. He lolls his head to the side and makes a pituful noise as Bucky unclasps the leash. Bucky notices and loops a finger in the empty ring, shushing Steve's sounds. "Easy now, it's alright. 'M here." Steve makes a satisfied noise and wriggles back into Bucky's warmth. "Nuh uh, none of that now. I need to shower and feed you, Steve. And I need to rub some salve into those bruises." The shorter man pouts, but lets Bucky pull him up and urge a water bottle from his nightstand into his hands. While he drinks, the brunette ruffles his hair and unclasps the collar, tucks it back in it's box. "See? There we go. That's a good boy." Steve flushes and chugs the rest of the bottle. Bucky warms the water for a shower and ushers Steve into it, grinning like an idiot when he lays a slap on Steve's already brusied ass. Steve yelps and punches Bucky's arm, laughing when Bucky dramatically drapes himself against the shower door. "Oh, I'm wounded!" He cries, following Steve's chuckling shape into the shower after shucking his clothes. He wraps himself around Steve's frame, speckling kisses along the expanse of his neck under the steaming stream. "That fuckin' hurt, you know." He tuts. Steve snorts. "'I said watch your mouth.'" The blonde mocks, rolling his eyes.  
Bucky slides a wet, shimmering metal hand up to the base of Steve's throat, pressing softly. Steve makes a startled sound and covers Bucky's hand with his own. Bucky smirks. "See how easy it is for me to turn it on you? Don't get smart with me. Grab which shampoo you want." Steve nods, untangling himself from Bucky's embrace to grab a bottle, seemingly shaken. Bucky seats himself on the shower bench and Steve, instead of sitting in his lap, seats himself on the floor at Bucky's feet. The brunette smiles when the shorter man hands him the bottle of shampoo that smells like flowers, one that Steve had brought home and stammered about a mistake Bucky knows he didn't make, too embarrased to admit that he just wanted that one instead. If Steve wants to have his hair washed with soap that smells like jasmine and violets, then he can; Bucky knows Steve deserves any and every comfort this world can offer him, whether it be the cute little charms he puts on his bike keys or soap that smells nice. Bucky pours some into his palms and rubs it gently into Steve's scalp, careful not to press too hard on the spots he had tugged at earlier. Steve purrs lowly at the attention, slipping his eyes shut. He takes longer then really neccicary to clean Steve's hair, but when he's done, He pats the blonde's shoulder. While Steve rinses off, Bucky picks up a bottle that's new. He'd torn the label off so Steve wouldn't know what it was, smirking when Steve arrives back to the bench. "I'll wash you, but I'm using this." He holds up the bottle for Steve's inspection. The blonde takes it and pops the top, smells it. "Bucky is this...?" The taller man nods and takes the bottle back, pours it across Steve's shoulder blades. Menthol perfumes the air, a cold flame where Bucky rubs it in. "Oh," Steve mewls, mouth hung open. The gel brings a vibrant sting to his skin, humming with the famillar feel of the menthol tingling sharply. "Good? You okay for me to keep it up?" Steve makes a noise, meant to be a yes, but it's garbled. 

Bucky pours out more and works it across whatever skin is availabe, earning tender, broken noises when the cool fire of the soap meets Steve's bruised ass and thighs. He seats Steve on the bench and rubs it into his legs and feet, watching Steve bask in the icy embers running thick from the bottle. The sensation is pleasant and Steve enjoys every moment of it. Bucky stands him and asks for his palm. "Now, I'm gonna get out. You're gonna wash yourself with this between your legs, you hear? Everything, and you're gonna do it well, or I'll punish you and you won't like it. If I taste any soap on your skin, you'll sit with ginger in you until I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?" The blonde groans and Bucky doesn't bother to check for the nod he knows Steve is giving as he turns, dries off, and leaves Steve to wait with a bottle of salve on the bed. 

The blonde emerges from the steam filled room still drenched and wrapped in nothing but a towel. He eyes the bottle in Bucky's hands, thighs twitching when he sits. "Did you do as I asked?" Bucky inqires, watching Steve's movements with a predatory gaze. The blonde nods and fidgets with his towel, shifting. "Burns, Buck." The taller man nods, leans in to kiss Steve softly. "I know baby, I know. I just need you nice and clean for me." He holds up the bottle in his hand, putting it in Steve's line of sight. "How you wanna lay, sweetheart?" Steve looks at him wordlessly, very clearly unable to articulate how he feels. He sliently eyes the bottle, blinking slow. His throat clicks when he swallows. "This won't burn, baby boy. Just feel nice and cool." Steve nods but lets his eyes wander, seemingly embarrased. "Daddy?" he says softly, unwrapping the towel from his waist to reveal his lower half, cock chubby and already beginning to flush. "Yes, Stevie?" Bucky lows, kissing his forehead. "Can I put my collar back on?" The blonde's voice is as quiet as a whisper, but the taller man hears it all the same. He takes it's box off Steve's nightstand and removes the smooth leather, sliding it home around Steve's neck. Cornflower blues gaze thankfully up at Bucky as he sits back down."See, that's Daddy's boy. You look so pretty, Steve. You don't even know it." The shorter man makes a delicate sound, drunk and heady on submission and squirms as Bucky kisses him again and eases him down to his stomach, squeezing some aloe gel onto his metal palm.

He works it into the flesh one to warm it. Gently, he presses both to Steve's skin. "Oh," the blonde whines. Bucky kneads the supple flesh of Steve's ass, working the slickness into the throbbing bruises. Steve moans softly, toes curling as the brunette's hands roam deeper and deeper. He works them harder, letting his weight rub the coolness into Steve's skin. "F-Fuck," he groans, back arching when Bucky's hands catch over the swell of his ass. The brunette reaches up with a glistening metal hand and presses firmly on the back of Steve's neck. The blonde squalls and goes limp, mouth hung open. "What have I told you about your languge, doll?" Steve makes an unintelligent noise and fists the sheets, mewling. Bucky presses ever harder on his lover's neck. Steve squalls again and keens, lifting his head to take the brunt of the force. "Answer me, pretty little boy." The blonde's eyes roll back; he sobs out and Bucky's metal palm whirrs and clinks as he continues to ease more force down on Steve's ass and throat simultantiously. "Daddy s-said not to use bad words." Steve's trembling words send a shivering, biting spike of arousal through Bucky's gut. He does the first thing he can think of, which is to open his mouth. "Sweet on it like a girl, and-" Steve's resulting cry at the older man's words is enough to drown the brunette's words and send a molten strike of pleasure down his cock. "You better quit squirmin'," Bucky growls, swiping a metal hand at Steve's throbbing behind, and stars burst behind the blond's eyes. "Oh fuck," he mewls. Bucky revels in the sound.

"Stevie, you're getting all wet here," The brunette purrs, taking his slick metallic hand and playing idly with the tip of his lover's cock. He's fully hard already, blurts of pre-cum glistening as they run over the taller man's fist. He works slowly, lazily, pulling aching sounds from Steve. "Daddy, 'm so sore," he says hoarsley. Bucky manuvers Steve fully to his back and gently rolls the blonde's balls in his metal hand, sticky with salve and Steve's arousal. "I know you are, angel. But your little cock is just so greedy. Your cunt is just the same. Wanna be filled, wanna be sloppy with what Daddy's got, huh?" Bucky feels his Stevie twitch in his fingers, gushing precum with every sticky and wet slide of his metal fist. Steve's brain is just gone, slow like hot taffy has been pulled from nuron to nuron. He whimpers softly, trying to fuck down into Bucky's grip. "Oh angel," Bucky murmurs againt a mouthfull of pale thigh. "Just like a clumsy little kitten." With a shudder, Steve clenches down on where Buckys tounge has rejoined his body. It's too much and not enough, too heavy and so light it might float away from him. He feels owned and safe, protected and loved in the brunette's embrace, tethered to this world with each word and every touch. 

Bucky senes the tenseness in Steve's body and slows, easing away to a protestant and downright wrecked sound. Jesus, this tender and sweet sub, tanged in damp sheets and his own mind will be the death of Bucky. More beautiful then God with a heart made of gold, and a sinnner like Bucky gets him all to himself. That's the way they've always been. Steve is the light, the good, the glimmer in the stars dotted in Bucky's darkness. He's always been the corrupting one, even before HYDRA fried his lizard brain or took his arm and his freedom. Steve is the worthiness in him, the very thing that keeps his mind from shaking apart. Like gravity, they pull together and collide like planets, scatterng thousands of pieces of themselves, hurling their celestial bodies at one another with such force they cease to be two, become rubble and disaster and dust, but rubble and disaster and dust together as one. "Shh, kitten. You're already so swollen down here that I can't keep that up, okay? Daddy's not gonna leave that pretty cock for long." Bucky goes to pull away to swallow Steve down, but he's stopped by trembling fingers threaded around his flesh hand. "Daddy, wait," he says breathlessly, the waves of his blue eyes crashing against the thundering caverns of his pupils. "Y-You can, uhm..." He pets the inside of his thigh worryingly, cheekbones defined with a rich blush. "If you p-put it here, it will rub on both of us." He murmurs quietly. 

Bucky pounces on him, a wicked grin barley veiled by his mock confusion. "Rub what where, Stevie? Can you tell me?" The embarrasment makes the blush dissapate into a flush, flowing like molten amber to Steve's chest. "Your c-cock, Daddy. Rub it on the inside of m-my thighs." Shame swallows him whole, radiating outward until Bucky scoops him up. "That's my good boy. You did so good, doll. I'm very proud of you for tellinng Daddy what you want." Steve's eyes glow in the praise, fluttering shut when he's lowered to his back again and Bucky drizzles cold lube into his metal palm, warmed by skin and sweat. Gently, he applies it to Steve's thighs and then his own cock. Steve closes his legs and lets them fall clumsily to his side, taking in a sharp breath when Bucky slides between them. It's hot and wet and perfect, the right amount of friction and slide for them both, and Bucky wastes no time in angling himself to let their cocks catch on his forward swing. Steve shivers and twitches, face contorted in desperation. His voice breaks when he tries to beg, moaning helplessly when Bucky's metal hand massages his taint with enough force to make his shoulders tremble. His collar jingles with every roll of Bucky's hips, and suddenly, Bucky gets an idea. Groping behind himself blindly, his fingers seal over the thick chain of the leash and he lurches forward to click it into the shining silver ring of Steve's collar with a loud click and a harsh pull.

Steve's cock gives a heavy twitch as he's jerked forward and Bucky groans. "Is that what you like, my pretty little boy? Daddy tugging at your leash?" That's the final straw for Steve, back shaped in a perfect arch as his body unspools itself and his cock spills thick and white across his stomach. Bucky works him through it, pressing and tugging to milk each drop from him, mouth ticking up at the timid "Daddy," Steve manages to whisper. The afterglow is warm and surrounds the blonde, floating and his mind blissfully empty. It's as though Bucky has poured sun-warmed honey in him, starting in his feet, filling his calves and engulfing his thighs. It claims his hips, encircles his spent and softening cock and heats his chest, tendrils of peace extending down his arm and into each finger. Slowly, it enraptues his head, sweet and so warm and when he breathes, he can feel Bucky in him and on him and smell the sweat dripping from his bronzed skin. He wonders with the honey filling him full in the clouds for as long as he can; it's the most bliss he could ever reach. With great care, water washes over the euphoria, taking drops of honey with it until it fades and he can only remeber it's taste. He blinks into the light, sticky and spent and exausted. "Bucky," he says hoarsley, suddenly desperate for Bucky's pleasure too until he realizes that his thighs and ass are covered in a mess of seed. It's filthy and perfect, and it makes his stomach give one final swoop. "Shh, doll. Daddy's here." 

Steve's eyes begin to sink shut as Bucky slides a warm, damp cloth where he can reach what remains of their spent passion, cooing praises and kissing bruises along the way. It's sweeter then the honey, and the shorter man smiles softly to himself. "Go to sleep, doll. You did so good for me. You deserve some rest."  
The last words Steve can form before the honey comes to reclaim him is "I love you."  
And the last words Bucky says to him as he drifts off are "I love you too, Stevie, "

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, fellow filth. Sorry for not updating. I've been farming this mess of a work for like, three months. Though this was beta read, I can't attest to spelling. (Aka I only speak two languages and I suck at both.) My lovely beta reader Ella was so kind as to look over my work and my other works before I published them! She's encouraged me throughout my writing process. Love you, baby girl. I live in a very small town that's been relatively unaffected by the virus, so I will be returning to school shortly. My writing will be (even) slower but I'll try not to let it affect me. I LOVE hearing your input, and if you have prompts, drop them below, or I can give you my personal email for a confidential talk. Hope you enjoyed. Again, chapters may or may not be added.
> 
> All my love  
> HeHasChosenTheBees


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